She weighs it all out perfectly;
Butter, sugar, flour,
Smashes the eggs into the mix
And beats it fast and hard.
Let's it rest and let's it rise,
Get back on its feet,
Then kneads and punches it down again,
Relax and then repeat.
She mixes up the filling,
Whisks eggs and sugar and crème,
Pours it into the brioche case
Which has risen again.
Suffocates it with egg wash
More butter and sugar dust,
Then into the oven for twenty minutes,
200 degrees is a must.
She drags it out and surveys her work;
The dark and crunchy crust
Covered with congealed egg,
(Thank goodness it didn't bust)
The dark spot on the custard
Like a buttery, crispy bruise.
She puts it on the cake stand
Hoping this time she won't lose.
Hoping that tonight perhaps
He'll love her, just tonight,
And hoping he won't hit her,
That she won't give up the fight.
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@Delilah
Just an average 17-yr-old from Northern Ireland. Kik: Delilah_95
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